


You Need Me or: How Watching Rachel Shank People Has Always Been Monroe’s Biggest Turn On

by Timid_Timbuktu



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, F/M, Hate Sex, PWP, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 11:08:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timid_Timbuktu/pseuds/Timid_Timbuktu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bass isn’t quite finished with Rachel after she kills Dr. Jaffe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Need Me or: How Watching Rachel Shank People Has Always Been Monroe’s Biggest Turn On

**Author's Note:**

> Plotless hate-sex. I just like you to know what you are getting yourself in to. Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine.

“Get out,” Sebastian told the guard.

“Yes, sir,” the guard saluted nervously and hurried toward the door.

“Lock this cellblock and do not open it until you hear my knock,” Bass called after him. He waited for the clank of the steel door and the turn of the lock before wrenching Rachel’s cell open. She was huddled inside, against the far wall, hidden in the shadows.

“You went too far,” Bass said, trying to keep his voice calm. She didn’t reply. He sighed, all pretense of composure gone.

“Stand up,” he demanded. She still didn’t move. He advanced toward her, wrenching her to her feet and pulling her toward the center of the room where moonlight streamed in from a window above. She tried to fight him, but he was in a rage and far stronger. Rachel stumbled into the soft light and looked up at him, defiant bitterness painting her features. She was so fucking obstinate, so strong. Bass felt blood rush to his groin. He wanted to tear her apart until she was a weeping mess.

“Get your hands off of me,” she hissed, trying to pull her wrists free.

He pulled her closer. “I’m the fucking President. You do not tell me what to do.”

She turned her intense blue eyes to his. Rachel had always possessed a stare that could turn him inside out, make him forget every thought he had ever had.

“Get your hands off of me,” she repeated, lower and slower, like he was some stupid lowlife.

He breathed out, a maniacal smile spreading across his mouth, and pushed her, stumbling, toward the wall. He pressed her against it with his body. She gasped in surprise and tried to push him off. In the struggle, he lost hold of one of her wrists and she raked her fingernails across the side of his neck.

“Bitch,” he muttered, finally recapturing her hand and pulling both of her arms above her head. She struggled, trying to wrench her arms free, trying to kick him in the shins, but she couldn’t land a blow. By the time he’d subdued her, he was breathing hard, from exertion and desire. He’d missed her body, soft and supple in every way a woman’s body should be.

She glared at him, trying to show him just how much she loathed him, just how pathetic she thought him.

“It wasn’t enough to turn me into a murderer tonight? Now you have to reclaim something that was never yours.”

He laughed darkly, “Rachel, you’ve been a murderer for years. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

“Don’t you dare use that word,” she was yelling, “You don’t love anything except yourself and this sick, twisted dream you have to rule the whole goddamned world. And to hell with any innocent who stands in your way, right?”

Bass smiled, taking both of her wrists in one hand so he could caress her cheek. She jerked away from the contact.

“And who is the ‘innocent’ supposed to be here? You?”

“Danny,” she whispered, as his fingers brushed softly against the side of her neck.

“Ah, the weak asthmatic son. I could still hurt him, you know. Very badly.”

“Is that why you’re here?” she was shaking, finally showing an appropriate amount of fear, “To collect. To take something from me as a bargain to not hurt my son.”

He smiled, “No. I’ll do whatever the hell I want to Danny, regardless of what I decide to do to you. You have no bargaining chips left, Rachel. So you better start showing some fucking respect.”

“You’d prefer I lie to you? Act like I respect you?”

He dropped his hand from her cheek to her breast, cupping it lightly. She grew completely still, eyes wide. It had been years since he had touched her like this, after she’d made it obvious that he shouldn’t. But god, how he had wanted to touch her, suck her taut nipples, slide his tongue across her moist heat. For years she had denied him and he had grudgingly let her, but tonight he wasn’t feeling so generous.

“You don’t have to lie, Rachel,” he said calmly, his words lacking acid for the first time, “You’ve been denying me for years, but why? Was it guilt over Ben? He’s gone.”

“Because you killed him,” Rachel said.

“Don’t act like that. You haven’t loved him in years. Fuck, you maybe never loved him,” he whispered, “That’s why you came to me the minute I called.”

“I came because Miles called.”

“And yet, you wound up back in my bed.”

He leaned in, planting light kisses along her left jaw and neck. He heard her sigh, though he was sure she would try to deny it.

“You have no idea how happy I was to have you back. I missed you so much during those first few years of the blackout.”

She didn’t reply, but when he pulled back to look at her, she had closed her eyes and her lips had parted slightly.

“You came back for me, you know it, Rachel. Just say it.”

“No,” she replied, opening her eyes and glowering at him.

“Because you needed me,” he continued, disregarding her words. His hand was making its way from her breast to her stomach.

“No.”

“Fine, Rachel, I’ll take back what I said earlier. I was angry with you. But you were right, I need you.”

“Yeah, to finish your fucking amplifier.”

“No, not like that Rache,” his voice was low as he unbuttoned her pants and slid his hand beneath the hem, “I need you. I always have. Ever since that first time, before you married that idiot.”

His hand slid between her legs to find her wet, ready for him. She hissed and breathed out.

“I need you, Rachel.”

“Fuck off,” she murmured closing her eyes and resting her head against the wall. Her breathing was becoming erratic. Bass knew now that she still wanted him. She could deny it with her words but not her body. He found her tight nub and circled it with his fingers, eliciting a moan from Rachel. Her body sagged against him and he loosened his grip. Too lost in the heat of her body and the sound of her panting, he didn’t notice that her hands were free until she’d planted a hard punch to his left cheek. He stepped back and she used this to her advantage, pushing hard against his chest with both hands. He staggered and fell. She was standing over him before he could react.

“You sick fuck,” she hissed, her hair disheveled, her eyes wild with rage. Bass had never wanted her more, but he was worried that if he moved she would regain her senses and make a run for the door. Not that she could escape the empty cellblock, but he wasn’t in the mood to chase her.

“That’s what you always liked about me, Rachel,” he said, still prone, “Nice men, like Ben, have always bored you. That’s why you found me before the blackout. You loved the game, the possibility of being caught. But after the blackout, you loved it even more because a part of you despised me, and the rest of you loved punishing me for it.”

“No,” she muttered, but the words lacked conviction.

“Yes, Rachel,” he slowly propped himself onto his elbows. She looked too much like a deer, caught in the scope of a hunter’s rifle. He didn’t want to move too quickly. He didn’t want to frighten her. He could feel how close she was to breaking. 

“You don’t have to be ashamed of that part of you, Rachel. I love that part of you.”

She was shaking her head as he sat up and tentatively grabbed her hand. She didn’t pull away.

“You want to punish me now, for the past six years, for everything I’ve done to you. Here’s your chance, I won’t stop you, whatever you want to do.”

She was on him in an instant, pummeling his head with her fists, cursing as the tears welled in her eyes. He honored his promise, protecting his head but not retaliating. Finally, after dozens of blows, her punches lost their fury and her head dropped to his chest as she caught her breath. She was chanting, like a mantra, “I hate you. I hate you.”

He rolled her over, pinning her body under his. He frantically pulled her shirt over her head and unlatched her bra, exposing her breasts. He sucked and bit them, trying to hurt her, pleased when she hissed in pain. The pain was always her undoing. Their limbs tangled together as she grappled with the many buttons on his jacket and he tried to wrench her pants off. With her finally naked under him, he pulled her head back violently by the hair, claiming her mouth with his tongue. It was a battle of dominance and he planned to win. She groaned and ground herself against his erection, making him break the kiss.

“Pants, off,” she gasped, unable to form complete sentences. He chuckled and removed his shoes and pants. His cock sprang free and even though his brain knew that he should give her some foreplay, his body was aching to be inside of her. After all, everything for the past six years had been foreplay to him, from the moments when he had maintained control and merely devoured her with his eyes, to the moments when he had lost control like tonight. Knowing that Rachel had planned to murder him, he’d completely forgotten that his men were in the room. He had seen only her. He’d wanted to wring her neck and sink his cock into her, in equal parts. Now he only wanted the latter.

He plunged into her in one thrust, making her cry out. She was so wet, so hot, and still so incredibly angry at him. She pushed him over so that she was on top, riding him. She looked beautiful, blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, head thrown back, eyes closed. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her face, so he didn’t see her right hand as she raised it to hit him. She landed a hard slap against his left cheek.

“Ow,” he cried out, annoyed, only to be slapped from the other side. “Jesus, Rachel, stop!”

She slapped him twice more before he finally captured her hands. She struggled slightly, more of a game than true resistance, as he dragged her over to the mattress and pushed her face down onto it. This was one of Rachel’s games that he knew well. She was only violent when she craved violence in return. He held her down, one hand on the small of her back, as he rubbed his cock across her wet slit. She moaned.

“Beg me,” he ordered only to be met with defiant silence. He slapped her ass so hard she cried out, burying her face into the mattress.

“I said, ‘beg me,’ slut.”

“Fuck off,” she replied. He slapped her again.

“I could do this all night, Rachel,” he whispered, planting light kisses along her back before slapping her buttocks again. Soft and hard, pleasure and pain. He knew it would break her. It always did. She held on for a long time, grinding against him and moaning, but never begging.

When he still didn’t give her what she wanted, she cursed at him. He just laughed, and repeated, “Beg me.”

Her body stilled as she gave up the fight, “Please, Sebastian.”

He'd given up on ever hearing those words from Rachel again but they made something shift in his brain. The fight for dominance had dissolved into something real, something he tried to ignore as he slid into her. This was just sex, he told himself, just punishment, nothing more. She cried out as he hit that spot deep within. He pounded her furiously, hitting her spot over and over again. She cried out every time.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her up, twisting her head painfully so he could kiss her. She responded by biting his lip so hard she drew blood.

“Fuck,” he exclaimed, forcing her back down onto the mattress and wrapping his hands around her throat. He squeezed them just tight enough to stifle her air and fucked her ruthlessly, without kindness. She hated him too much for gentleness, and he was only too willing to provide her with the pain she craved. He felt her clench around him as an orgasm shook her body. He wanted this to last forever, but she was so tight and so wet. Without warning he felt himself follow her over the cliff, crying out her name as came inside of her.

After a few moments he fell onto her back, panting and wrapping his arms around her.

She jerked and hissed, “Get off of me.”

He’d lost his previous anger. He always did right after sex, so he didn’t fight her. He rolled off and leaned back onto the bed, as she stood up and glared at him. He smiled in return which only seemed to piss her off more. She pulled her pants back on, then grabbed for her shirt.

“Don’t,” Bass said, “I want to look at you.”

“I don’t care what you want,” she replied and put on her shirt. She grabbed his pants off of the floor and threw them at him. He made no move to get dressed.

“Please, can you put those on?” 

“I feel fine like I am,” he responded sitting up, spreading his legs apart so that his cock fell between them. Rachel looked at him with disgust.

“What are you going to do to Danny?”

He shrugged, “Don’t know.”

“What the fuck happened to you, Bass?”

“Don’t you dare ask that, like you don’t know about every goddamned thing that has happened to me in the past 20 years.”

Rachel sighed, trying a new tactic, “It’s me you are angry with. So take it out on me, not Danny.”

“That’s solid advice, but there is a problem with it,” Bass said, smirking, “I care about you. But Danny, he is nothing to me. He is just Ben’s son.”

Her eyes grew wide and her mouth became a hard line. This was an old argument, one that Rachel detested, but she couldn’t stop him.

“Now, if he were my son, I might be inclined to treat him with kindness.”

“But he’s not your son.”

“Bullshit,” Bass yelled, standing up and advancing toward her. She didn’t step back. She had always been so strong, and he loved her for it.

“I believed you back then, when you produced that paternity test, but not anymore. I know what a heartless bitch you are now. I know you would have gladly faked a paternity test to keep the truth from me, to keep your perfect little family together.”

“So, what changed? Why don’t you believe it anymore?”

“I met him,” Bass said, “He’s mine.”

“If you really think that then why would you hurt him?”

“Because I am better at this game than you, Rachel,” he was standing directly in front of her. He could feel the pull of her body. He desperately wanted to touch her, but he resisted, “Strausser will love beating him tomorrow, but you can stop it, if you just tell me the truth.”

Rachel glared at him. He searched for the chink in her armor, but there was nothing. She had always had a flawless poker face.

“The truth is that he is Ben’s son.”

No matter how much the answer hurt him he had been expecting it, so he maintained an indifferent expression. He ran his hand gently along her cheek.

“Then he means nothing to me, and his torture is on you, Rachel.”

She slapped him and he stepped back. He was finished with this conversation. He knew the truth and someday he’d make her admit it…or he would just conduct another paternity test once he turned the electricity back on. He donned his pants, shirt and jacket, then sat on the bed and calmly laced up his shoes as Rachel regarded him with complete loathing.

He rose and smiled at her. A dozen snarky comments floated through his mind, but he rejected them. He had already won. There was no reason to twist the knife in deeper. He left her standing in the center of her room as he locked her cell door. He rapped a series of knocks on the cellblock door, morse code for his sisters’ names, Anna and Lizzy, and walked into the flickering candlelight of the hallway.


End file.
